Winter 1930-31 Louise Goepfert

The Gurdjieff Years

1929-1949

Recollections of Louise Goepfert March

Expanded Edition

byAnnabeth McCorkle

EUREKA EDITIONS 2012

First edition published in 1990 by The Work Study Association, Inc., Walworth, New York.Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 90-070434 ISBN 9626729-0-4

Copyright 1988,1990, 2012 by Annabeth W. McCorkle. All rights reserved.

"In the Shade of Notre Dame" and "Return to the Mountains," from Gold Dust by Louise March Copyright 1980 by the Rochester Folk Art Guild, reprinted by permission.

Translated excerpts of the 1929-1931 letters between Louise Goepfert, Alfons Paquet, and G. I. Gurdjieff reprinted by permission from Universitatsbibliothek Johann Christian Senckenberg of Frankfurt am Main.

"An Introduction to The Tibetan Book of the Dead, containing some suggestions as to the right method for reading Gurdjieffs Beelzebub's Tales to His Grandson" by Louise March was previously published in The Rochester Years 1957-1987 The Work of Louise March by Annabeth McCorkle. 2007 Annabeth W McCorkle.

Image of dust jacket designed by Josef Binder on 1950 edition of All und Alles by MAK (Austrian Museum for Applied Arts / Contemporary Art, Vienna), reproduced by permission.

The author may be contacted at awmccorkle@gmail.com

Eureka Editions 2 Oil

ISBN: 978-90-72395-78-8

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photo-copying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of Eureka Editions.

Scan & OCR:

Truth Seekers Chicago

For the next generations

The living essence of Gurdjieffs teaching will never be found in a book, but attentive readers may discover clues which will help in the pursuit of Truth.

Table of ContentsBrief Chronology of Louise Goepfert March's life as recounted in The Gurdjieff Years 5

Preface to the Expanded Edition 7

Introduction 131. Preparation 152. The Proposal 193. The Arrival 294. Translation 375. The Prieure Years 476. Travels 657. Last Days at the Prieure 838. After the Prieure 919. Gurdjieffs Last Visit to New York 9910. The Final Days 115

Afterward to the Expanded Edition 119Appendix 121

"Return to the Mountains," a poem by Louise March 121"In the Shade of Notre Dame," 122a poem by Louise March'An Introduction to The Tibetan Book of the Dead" 123 by Louise March"Writing The Gurdjieff Years with Louise March" 129 by Annabeth McCorkle

Endnotes 135Index 139

LOUISE GOEPFERT MARCH was G. I. Gurdjieffs student, secretary, and the translator of the German edition of Beelzebub's Tales to His Grandson. Her association with him lasted from 1929 until his death in 1949. She devoted the rest of her life to the transmission of his teaching. In 1957, authorized by Lord Pentland and initially assisted by Christopher Fremantle, Mrs. March established Gurdjieff work groups in Rochester, New York. During the next ten years, she traveled monthly from her home in New York City to Rochester, where she trained her students in the practical application of Gurdjieffs ideas. In 1967 Mrs. March founded a craft community, the Rochester Folk Art Guild. She became well known as the vigorous matriarch and teacher of this unique expression of the principles of Gurdjieff Mrs. March's legacy also includes Stillwood Study Center, which carries on her work under the direction of people prepared by her for this purpose. Louise March died in November 1987.

ANNABETH MCCORKLE first met Louise March in 1963 in Rochester, New York, when she joined Mrs. March's group studying the ideas and practices of Gurdjieff. In 1978 Mrs. McCorkle and her husband established their primary connection with Lord Pentland at the Gurdjieff Foundation of New York, although their relationship with Mrs. March continued until her death. Mrs. McCorkle and her husband co-founded Stillwood Study Center where she continues to lead groups and movements in the Gurdjieff tradition. Mrs. McCorkle is the author of A Pair of Warm Socks: Five Spiritual Journeys; Finding a Way; Essays on Spiritual Practice', and The Rochester Years 1957-1987: The Work of Louise March. She has also written a children's book, The Kramurg.

A Brief Chronology of Louise Goepfert March's life as recounted in The Gurdjieff Years

1900-1925 Louise Goepfert's birth & childhood inSwitzerland and Germany. Attended Berlin University.

1926-1929 Post-graduate study in art history at Smith College in the United States. Worked at the Opportunity Gallery in New York City. Taught art history at Hunter College.

1929 Met G. 1. Gurdjieff in New York City. Traveled to Prieure to translate Beelzebubs Tales to His Grandson into German.

1930 (Feb-April)lst trip to the United States with Gurdjieff.

1930 (Nov)-1931 (Mar) 2nd trip to the United Stateswith Gurdjieff.

1931 (April-Nov) Traveled in the United States, Japan,and China before returning to Gurdjieff at the Prieure.

1931 (Nov)-1932 (Jan) 3rd trip to the United States withGurdjieff.

1932 After Prieure closed, returned to Germany.1933 Married Walter March, settled in Berlin.

Visited there by Gurdjieff1936 Moved with her family to the United States.1939 Visited with Gurdjieff during his final pre

war trip to the United States.1939-1948 As homemaker and mother of five children,

lived on Spring Farm in Bloomingburg, New York.

1948 (Dec)-1949 (Feb) Gurdjieffs last visit to the UnitedStates.

1949 At Gurdjieffs request, traveled to Europe to

supervise the publication of the German edition of. Beelzebub's Tales to His Grandson.

1949 (October 29) Gurdjieffs death.Publication of German edition of In Search of the Miraculous co-translated by Louise March.

1950 Publication of German edition of All und Alles. Wrote and published pamphlet, G. Gurdjieff: A Call for Attention to His Life and Work.

Preface to the Expanded Edition

Within a few months of the 1990 publication of The Gurdjieff Years: 1929-1949, Recollections of Louise March, it was clear that I had underestimated the demand for the book. After the five hundred copies of the initial printing had been sold, requests for copies of the book continued to arrive from all over the world.

During the 1990s, The Gurdjieff Years was cited numerous times in other books about Gurdjieff. People who wanted to read the entire book were unable to obtain copies. Some people made photocopies of the text for their friendssometimes with the permission of the copyright holder but more often without. Worse were the scanned versions which exhibited a quality of text a far cry from Louise March's high standards. As time passed, used copies, selling for upwards of ten times the original list price, appeared on the Internet and in catalogues dedicated to books about Gurdjieff and his teaching.

In response to continuing requests, I decided to reissue the book. Initially, I thought only to correct the few typographical errors in the original text. When additional material became available, I decided to include it in order to enrich the reader's knowledge of Louise Goepfert March's experience with Gurdjieff. This book is the result.

The main additions to this expanded edition are excerpts of primary source letters written by Louise Goepfert to Alfons Paquet between 1929 and 1931 describing her early impressions of Gurdjieff and her German translation of Beelzebub's Tales to His Grandson. All these letters were dated and written in German. After they were translated into English, I, in consultation with

the translator, made minor changes to conform to colloquial English. Every effort was made to remain faithful to the original material, but I take full responsibility for any errors in meaning that may have crept in.

Besides the letters, there is supplemental data that clarifies Louise Goepfert March's relationship with Gurdjieff and her role in the publication of the German editions of both Beelzebub's Tales to His Grandson and In Search of the Miraculous and a brief chronology other life as recounted in The Gurdjieff Years. In an appendix are two poems written by her that flowed from her time with Gurdjieff; her essay about The Tibetan Book of the Dead which includes "suggestions as to the right method of reading Gurdjieffs Beelzebub's Tales to His Grandson"; and an amended version of the Preface to the 1990 edition of The Gurdjieff Years entitled "Writing The Gurdjieff Years with Louise March." There are also more photographs and an index.

Among the editing changes in this edition, the spellings of Galumnian and Svetchnikoff were changed to conform to James Moore's usage in his 1991 biography of Gurdjieff. Also, several paragraphs relating to the March children, which do not contribute to the reader's understanding of Gurdjieff or Louise March, were revised or removed.

There are also some formatting changes in the expanded edition. The bibliographic footnotes have been replaced with endnotes. Within the body of the text, Louise March's own explanatory notes remain in parentheses, and my clarifying comments are set within brackets. Direct quotes from Louise March's notes, letters, and journalsfor which I have hard copyare italicized. The rest of the text was based on my interviews

The Gurdjieff Years: 1929-1949

with Louise March during the summer and fall of 1987. The tapes of these talks remain in my possession.

The publication of both editions of The Gurdjieff Years was the result of many people's efforts. I gladly acknowledge a few of the myriad sources of help.Working with men and women who shared acommitment to publish a written record of Mrs. March's memories of Gurdjieff has been a truly rewardingexperience. To all the people who helped, whethermentioned by name or not, I am most grateful.

The expanded edition of The Gurdjieff Years was greatly enriched by the dedicated efforts of Niko Papastefanou, a native German speaker thoroughly conversant with English. It was he who first alerted me to the existence of the Louise Goepfert-Alfons Paquet letters. Niko secured copies of these letters, and, after deciphering Louise Goepfert's sometimes-hard-to-read handwriting in "old German," he translated the letters into English with insight and sensitivity.

Niko provided other documents which confirmed and clarified Louise March's memories of various events mentioned in the book. He facilitated the securing of the necessary permissions for the inclusion of certain written material and images in this edition. Although I have never met Niko, I consider him a friend and partner in this endeavor. Without him, this book would have been little more than a reissue of the 1990 edition.

When Louise March and I were preparing the material for the 1990 edition of The Gurdjieff Years, she once remarked wistfully in the poetic imagery that characterized her speech, "So far we only have the snakeskin. Where is the lifethe snake itself?" If these letters, as I hope, supply at least a bit of the "snake itself," is due in large measure to Niko.

Preface to the Expanded Edition

Niko in his turn, and I indirectly, are grateful to Dr. Oliver Piecha, the author of a forthcoming authoritative biography of Alfons Paquet, who initially directed Niko to the collection of letters in the literary estate of Alfons Paquet. I happily acknowledge a deep appreciation to Mrs. Raschida Mansour of the Universitatsbibliothek Johann Christian Senckenberg of Frankfurt am Main for her help in making the Goepfert-Paquet letters available for research and translation and for permission to include an image of a portion of one of the original letters in this book.

Gratitude is also due to Mr. Thomas Matyk at MAK (Austrian Museum of Applied Arts in Vienna) for arranging permission to include the image of Joseph Binder's design of the dust jacket for the 1950 German edition of All und Alles. I thank Charles van Home for his help in regard to the photographs of Gurdjieff and his "family" taken during the winter of 1930-1931 by his great aunt, Tony von Horn. I am appreciative that the Rochester Folk Art Guild gave permission for the inclusion of a photograph of Mrs. March as well as two of her poems.

I remain grateful to the archivists of both Smith and Hunter Colleges for their assistance in locating and providing documents pertaining to Louise Goepfert used first in the 1990 edition of The Gurdjieff Years. I acknowledge with thanks Smith College's permission to quote from President William Allan Neilson's letter about her.

In response to the 1990 edition, George Baker and Joe Rosensteil wrote thoughtful letters with specific ideas for improving the book. Their corrections and many of their suggestions have been incorporated into this edition. Tom Daly, in a long letter, generously shared his own struggles

The Gurdjieff Years: 1929-1949

10

and work during the compilation of material for the de Hartmann book, Our Life with Mr. Gurdjieff, and for the publication of the Gurdjieff - de Hartmann music. He hoped his experience would help me, and it did. Jack Cain provided additional data about the philological background of Beelzebub's Tales. Elizabeth Evans strongly and frequently encouraged me to reissue The Gurdjieff Years.

Paul Schliffer and Michael Hunter of the Rochester Folk Art Guild contributed input and support as well. Sylvia March, as the representative of Louise March's family, shared her perspective on the material. Maria Lennig (nee Goepfert) elaborated on Louise March's memories of their childhood in Switzerland and Germany.

Several members of Stillwood Study Center helped: Elizabeth Rowe and Mary Jo Pace, with editing; Brian Orner with conversion of the tapes of my 1987 talks with Louise March to digital files.

Prior to the publication of the 1990 edition of The Gurdjieff Years, Michel de Salzmann, Mme. Pauline de Dampierre, and Paul Reynard made useful recommendations. Peggy Flinsch, on her own initiative, flew to Rochester to discuss the book with me. Our conversation helped to clarify my intentions. Several members of the Gurdjieff Foundation of California, particularly Fredrica Parlett and Henry Jacobson, proposed numerous editorial changes which contributed to a better book. Numerous members of The Work Study Association (now Stillwood Study Center) provided technical support. Judith Mallinson, Carol Kerner, Linda Lindenfelser, and Judith Maloney assisted in editorial and research matters. Leslie Light was responsible for graphic design, and Barry Perlus for photographic reproduction and advice.

Preface to the Expanded Edition

11

Finally, I gratefully acknowledge the unwavering support of my husband, Mac, through both editions of this book.

Annabeth Waddell McCorkle November 2011

The Gurdjieff Years: 1929-1949

12

Introduction

Du bist der dunkele, Unbewusste, wrote Rilke. "You are the dark one, hard to recognize." l

Throughout my childhood in Switzerland and Germany in the early part of the twentieth century, I lived with an expectation that one day I would meet a great man. I imagined finding him in exotic circumstancesin the Himalayas or at Fujiyama. In a sense, I was waiting for I knew not whom. I stayed away from people. I didn't crave the world.

Then there came a period in New York City when my childhood ideals became dim. Striving to make a place for myself in the world seemed to be paramount for me. I held two jobs. I was drawn into the social life of glamorous New York. Only material possessions seemed worth working for. I wanted to find a millionaire.

Yet the expectancy remained that I was to meet a great man one day. The fulfillment of this expectation came, not where I had dreamed, but here in America in 1929 when I met George Ivanovitch Gurdjieff. He called me to serve him and his mission. I recognized him as the great one I had anticipated. And everything changed.

13

Chapter 1Preparation

My earliest years were spent in Switzerland where I was bom on August 30, 1900. Our family lived in a big house, one of several occupied by people employed at the spinning mill where my father was treasurer.

From the beginning, nature was important to me. We climbed the snow-capped Jura Mountains between Switzerland and Germany with every guest who visited our family. My sister Maria, three years younger than I, was usually carried up the mountain by one of the adults, but I always got to the top on my own power. Later, in Germany, Maria and I accompanied our father on walks through the woods near our apartment and on the Taunus, the ridge of hills west of Frankfurt. My father liked to have his daughters with him on these expeditions.

My father was a gentle man who loved theater and art. It was said that before he married my mother he used to go to the theater every day. As a result of his influence, we often visited the Stadel Museum of Painting and the Liebieghaus Museum of Sculpture.

In our family the male force came more from my mother than from my father. Of the two, she was the stronger. She was a practical woman who spent much of her time doing "good works" in our church and community. She was also very demanding.

I was always trying to please my mother, but it was impossible. Once I thought I would surprise her by doing her ironing while she was gone, but just before she left the house she said to me, "You might do my ironing while I'm gone."

Once a girl from my class told her mother that I had broken her earring. When the girl's mother complained

15

to my mother, she accepted my classmate's story without question. When I told her the truth, that I hadn't broken the earring, she didn't believe me. I couldn't forgive her for that.

It was characteristic of my mother to be very critical. Even when I was an adult, after I had done postgraduate work at Smith College, she objected to my makeup and how I wore my hair with bangs on my forehead.

As a child I felt myself a stranger within my own family. I still remember my mother saying to me, "You should have been born into another family." After meeting her while visiting Frankfurt in the early 1930s, Mr. Gurdjieff said, "How possible such daughter have such mother, such mother have such daughter? I take pity, take daughter into my family."

During that same visit he examined all the pictures in her house very carefully. He paid particular attention to a painting of my other sisteran angelic blond who died at two after suffering a long illness. What did he see in that?

When I was seven years old and about to enter school, a young girl was murdered in the nearby town where the school was located. My parents decided Switzerland was not safe, so we moved to Frankfurt, Germany, where we took a large apartment close to the Main River. Maria and I were enrolled in a very good private school run by nuns.

The move to Frankfurt was not a felicitous one. Throughout the rest of my childhood, I heard the refrain, "If only we had stayed in Switzerland."

In Germany, my father joined his family's business, an old wine house in Wurzburg that produced Bocksbeutel. [The distinctive squat green flagon of Bocksbeutel (literally "goat's bag") has been a symbol of fine Franconian wine since 1726.] He was very successful exporting the German wine to Russia. He became known for his ability

The GurdjieffYears: 1929-1949

16

Preparation

to taste a wine and tell what year it was made and wherethe grapes were grown. When World War I began, even

though he was already in his forties, my father wasdrafted into the German army. Being of delicate

constitution, he suffered terribly during the war and nearly lost his mind.

I was a lonesome child with no friends other than my sister Maria. I thought she took after our mother; I, after our father. Maria and I were very different but we got along well. She both washed and dried the dishes while I read stories and poetry aloud to her. With dramatic flourish I read Medea and the other tragedies that were our favorites.

I lived in a world of fairy tales, legends, and myths where suffering kings and sacrifices for noble causes were common. To find the Grail and partake in the communion with it was my childhood's greatest desire. I was enchanted by Wolfram von Eschenbach's Parzival and by Wagner's operatic version, Parsifal, particularly the image of the Grail held in the air by angels until an appropriate guardian came along. I felt deeply about Amfortas, the knight who guarded the Grail and suffered from a bleeding wound. In these German versions of the Grail myth, Parzifal, obeying his training not to ask questions out of idle curiosity, did not ask Amfortas the compassionate question, "Whence is your wound?" I was almost sure I would have. At least I would have suffered with Amfortas.

My strong Catholic upbringing made the Christian story vivid and real to me. I often wished I had lived when Jesus walked this earth. Even as a young child, I envied Mary Magdalene, salving His feet and drying them with her hair. Stoic Mary under the cross seemed incomprehensible to me. Mary Magdalene in passionate

17

grief was much more understandable. During my early adolescence I wanted to enter a convent as Christ's bride, wishing to perfect myself to come nearer to Him.

In my late teens I became disenchanted with the Catholic Church. With interest and respect I read The Mahabharata, the Indian epic of man and life and the gods. I became acquainted with a delightful Hindu family. I couldn't accept the Catholic Church's position that these good people were "unsaved." For its judgment of others, I judged the Church.

As to earthly love, I woke up late. I felt that the usual man-woman relationship was too limited. Ordinary men did not attract me. I was only interested in men who had ideas living in them.

The impulse to help others was active in me very early in life. No doubt this came from my mother. When I was in Catholic school, I was the chaplain of the class. Whenever difficulties arose with the other students, I was responsible for taking those involved to the nuns. Usually the problems were straightened out. Later the art gallery that I ran in New York was also part of that fate to help others. I introduced many poor artists, whose talents were as yet unrecognized, to wealthy patrons.

Now, in my eighties, I think helping people to discover who they are is the only help of real worth. And yet Mr. Gurdjieff gave material assistance to many old Russians and family members stranded in a foreign land in difficult times. How can you not help if you are human?

TheGurdjieffYears: 1929-1949

18

Chapter 2The Proposal

After attending the University of Frankfurt, I began studying at the University of Berlin. One day in 1925 Dr. Max Dessoir, my philosophy professor [and aesthetics theorist], suggested I apply for the new International Student Exchange Program. He said, "I don't want to lose you as a student, but I thought it might be good for you. You haven't looked well since your mother's recent illness. Would you like to go to America for a year? May I give your name to Dr. Werner Picht, who represents the program here in Europe?"

I said, "Of course, yes."Almost a year later, when I had nearly forgotten about

the program, I was notified that I was to leave for the United States in a few weeks. When the news came, I was on the Riviera in the company of two editors of a Berlin newspaper. I started crying. "I never really wanted to go to America. I only agreed to go because my professor said it would be good for me." My companions told me that I shouldn't pass up this great opportunity. And so, I gathered my courage and left for America. It was September 1926.1 was twenty-six years old.

I spent the year doing postgraduate work in art history at Smith College in Massachusetts. The following summer, as a result of a recommendation by Smith's president, Dr. William Allan Neilson, I chaperoned a group of young people on an art tour of Europe.

[A letter, dated February 12, 1927, from Dr. Neilson to william Carlisle says in part: "Miss Goepfert speaks both French and German and has a knowledge of Europe which would make her a valuable chaperone of one of your parties. She is a student of art and knows a great deal about art and architecture."2]

As one of a handful of foreign students at Smith, I was somewhat of a celebrity and much in demand for all sorts of functions. A special fund was established which enabled me to travel within the United States during vacations.

On one of these trips I wandered into Alfred Stieglitz's gallery in New York City. Stieglitz took an instant liking to me, perhaps because I was German, and he remembered having his best time of learning and studying in Berlin. When I was leaving, he urged me, "Come back soon. You must meet Miss O'Keeffe." The next time I visited, I met Georgia O'Keeffe and saw an exhibit other paintings. I recognized the significance of her art immediately. O'Keeffe and Stieglitz were pleased that my opinion differed markedly from that of Maier- Grafe, the best-known German art critic of that time. He thought her work was merely decorative.

I left the gallery with O'Keeffe who was dressed in her customary white and black clothes and flat-heeled shoes.I still remember her long stride and my pleasure in walking with her. We fitted well together. O'Keeffe and I became friends, meeting at least once a year until her death in 1986. 3

In the year following our first meeting, O'Keeffe helped me establish myself in New York City. She found a job for me at the Opportunity Gallery, a gallery for mostly young, unknown artists who had not yet had one-man shows. Smith President Neilson also helped by arranging a position for me on the faculty of Hunter College in the art department. Between 1927 and 1929,1 taught classes on the history of Renaissance and modern painting, and in sculpture.

Time passed. I became well established in the New

The Gurdjieff Years: 1929-1949

20

York "scene." I was included in a certain circle of artists and writers who used to gather at the house of the three Stettheimer sisters. There was Eti, who was the first American woman with a German doctorate in philosophy, a writer, and friend of the publisher Alfred Knopf; Florene, who was a very distinguished painter; and Carrie, who built a doll house that is now in the Museum of the City of New York.

The Stettheimer parties usually started at nine o'clock at night. The guests were always extraordinarily well dressed, in fashionable evening clothes. At one of these parties I WB introduced to Mr. A. R. Orage about whom I had heard from Carl Zigrosser, the director of the Weyhe Gallery. I said to Orage, "Aren't you the person who reads that special book by a man whose name I can't quite pronounce?"

He said, "Yes. Gurdjieff is his name. If you're interested, I'll put you on my list. When we start reading again, you'll be invited."

After this exchange with Orage, the evening dragged on as it always did at those parties. Lobster was to be served but not until after midnight. Quite a while before that, Orage returned to me and said, "I wonder, would you like to come with me now? I'm supposed to be in Carnegie Hall, listening to Mr. de Hartmann play Gurdjieff s music."

I thought about it quickly and said, "Yes." I experienced a slight regret that the lobster hadn't come yet.

Orage and I walked the short distance from the Stettheimers' apartment building to Carnegie Hall and then rode the elevator up to one of its many studios. We entered a room full of smoke and the most penetrating piano music I had ever heard. When Orage joined Gurdjieff in the front of the room, I sat down in the barest empty seat.

The Proposal

21

I could barely see Gurdjieff through the haze, but I could hear him shout at Orage for being so late. When Gurdjieff stopped shouting, Mr. de Hartmann started to play the piano again. Deeply impressed, I listened intently. What can I say about the other-ness of the Gurdjieff-de Hartmann music? It went into me differently,not automatically.

When the music ended, Mr. Gurdjieff took Orage under his whip again. Music continued to alternate with bouts of shouting. I disliked all the smoke and uproar, so I quietly left the studio and rang for the elevator.

After a long wait, the elevator came. As I stepped inside, I felt something like lightning piercing me from behind. I turned around. There was Mr. Gurdjieff. He entered the elevator. The doors closed behind us.

"You here?" he said.I thought, What a question! Of course I'm here."Where go? What do?" he asked."Oh," I said smiling, "I'm going back to a very

interesting party. Writers, paintersthe intelligentsia of New York. Do come along."

My job at the Opportunity Gallery had taught me the American skill of being a "good mixer." I thought I could use this facility to persuade Mr. Gurdjieff to return with me to the Stettheimers' party. What a feather in my cap that would be! Mr. Gurdjieff looked interested and I was hopeful.

We stepped out of the elevator on the ground floor. We were just about to walk down the eight steps in front of Carnegie Hall when Mr. Gurdjieff put his hand on myshoulder.

"Now, stop," he said. "People wait me, not can go. Ch...Ch...il...ds. Where C h i 1 d s ?" He pronounced the name of the restaurant with the greatest difficulty, almost pain.

The GurdjieffYears: 1929-1949

22

"Well," I said, "there are two Childs. One on Columbus Circle and one on Fifth Avenue. Which one?"

"Fi-.Fif... Fifth Avenue," he stuttered. Pressing my arm slightly, he asked, "Where?"

Mr. Gurdjieff gave the impression of being a helpless stranger lost in the big city. He was such a good actor that I was fully convinced he could not find his way without me as his guide. I even wished to be his guide.

We walked slowly along 57th Street toward Fifth Avenue. Mr. Gurdjieffs steps were firm, his feet pointed outward, his arms crossed behind his back. He walked like no one else.

"What you do? Where you come from?" he asked. In the two long blocks between Carnegie Hall and Childs he drew forth almost everything about me. He seemed particularly pleased when I told him that I had two jobs and was supporting my mother.

As I was talking, I noticed we were walking past Henri Bendel, the store where the Stettheimer sisters bought their elegant clothes. The display of fashionable evening gowns in the store window attracted my attention, for I wanted to be elegant too.

Mr. Gurdjieff followed my gaze to the store window. With a flick of his wrist, he indicated the insignificance of such values. His gesture made such an impression on me that I felt that my attraction to fashion and elegance was only outward. Inwardly I didn't care a bit.

When we got to Childs Restaurant, the hatcheck girl took his Russian cap with delight and reverence. He walked deliberately toward a group of people crowded around two tables that had been pushed together. All faces turned toward me. Mr. Gurdjieff pulled out a chair tor me, sat down with his back to the rest of the people, and faced me. We continued to talk.

The Proposal

23

When Gurdjieff mentioned his rich wine cellar in the Prieure, his chateau in Avon near Fontainebleau, France, I paid close attention because of my father's connection with wine. As I listened to Mr. Gurdjieff, I had the clear impression that he and I were far away from everyone else, that only I could hear what he was saying. It suddenly struck me, How does he speak? In what language? Do I understand? Where am I? I felt that while there was something in me that was listening, it wasn't anything in my body. When Mr. Gurdjieff finally turned to talk to the other people, I excused myself and left.

Back on the street again I felt just as confused as Mr. Gurdjieff had appeared to be in front of Carnegie Hall. I had to stop. Then I saw the choice. To the left was the party and the lobsterrepresenting all that my recent life in New York had meant. To the right was the hotel where I had a quiet roomrepresenting an unknown and yet more real possibility. I turned right.

For the rest of the night I felt struck, transported, even transformed. I could not sleep for the inner questioning that had begunthe kind of questioning that must happen to all people who have such good fortune. What is life? Why are you here? You like New York because of its richness and splendor! Aren't you an upstart? On and on it went until morning. The next day I felt better than if I had slept.

That evening I had been invited out by friends of the Stettheimers to the Architectural League, where I often attended dinners, dances, or lectures. My hosts, the Kaisers, were patrons of my gallery. He was a sculptor and she an interior decorator. They picked me up in their car. As we were nearing Childs, I suddenly said, "Oh please, stop a minute 11 must see someone in Childs."

I left the Kaisers in the car and went inside to find Mr.

The GurdjieffVears: 1929-1949

24

Gurdjieff. I felt very proud of the light coral velvet evening coat I was wearing. I hoped Gurdjieff would be impressed by it.

Mr. Gurdjieff was writing, seated at a table. When I reached him, he looked up.

"Sit!" he said."Oh, no," I said, "I'm going out. I can't.""Why then come?""I came to tell you I didn't sleep. Everything's

changed." Then I ran back to join the Kaisers.One afternoon a few weeks later, I went to the Russian

Tea Room on 57th Street. It was simpler then, just a tea room frequented by writers and musicians. Mr. Gurdjieff was sitting at a table. I greeted him joyously and was amazed at the reception I got. He looked up, took his glasses off, pretending not to know me, as if searching in his memory. Then he seemed to place me. "Ah, yes, remember. Once I forgive. Not second time."

I was shocked. "Forgive? Forgive what?"You not even remember. I wait. I wait you, Childs,

next day. Why not come?"I broke out in a sweat. The floor underneath me seemed

to give way. I thought, "I have no memory of such an agreement. And yet he speaks with such authority, he must be right. Had he said it and I didn't understand? Had he made a date and I hadn't come? But wouldn't I have come if I had known?" It was torture, torture for years. But then I would remember, "Once, only once I forgive!"

From the Russian Tea Room we walked together to his apartment on 59th Street and Central Park South where I watched him prepare supper. Everything tasted unusual and very good. I was somewhere in The Thousand and One sights. The other people who had gathered for the meal

The Proposal

25

mattered little to meexcept for Olga de Hartmann, who talked a lot and seemed to disapprove of me. She asked me which group I came from, but I didn't know what she meant.

During the time I had been in New York, I had become great friends with Alexander and Gela Archipenko from Berlin. Every evening, if I wasn't otherwise engaged, I dined with them, either at their home or at a restaurant. One day Gela said, "Someone from my youth, from Marchstrasse in Charlottenburg, is coming. Please help me entertain him." The guest was Walter March, a young architect.

Soon after that evening, I had a luncheon engagement with Walter at Childs. When we arrived, Mr. Gurdjieff waved us over to eat with him at his table. Mr. Gurdjieff was commander of the meal. When it was over, he left a very generous tip. I liked that. As we were leaving the restaurant, the hatcheck girl said to me, "Ah! You go out with that man?" She indicated Mr. Gurdjieff. "He must be a millionaire."

Mr. Gurdjieff suggested that I come to a reading of his book, Beelzebub's Tales to His Grandson. I told him I was lecturing in the evenings at Hunter College so I couldn't be there at the time the reading was scheduled to begin. "Then come when can," he said. "But telephone Mme. de Hartmann. Where held I not know."

I telephoned and telephoned. When she asked again which group I was in or said that she didn't know yet where the meeting would be, I persisted. I kept knocking until the door was opened.

The next Monday evening, after I finished teaching at Hunter College in Brooklyn, I took the subway to Manhattan. I went directly to Muriel Draper's studio where the reading was to be held. As I entered the

TheGurdjieffYears: 1929-1949

26

crowded room, Mr. Gurdjieff interrupted the reader, "Enough, enough."

He showed me to a big, red, high-backed chair. Everyone looked at me as I sat down next to him. I felt very much in the spotlight.

Mr. Gurdjieff said, "Very important. Another chapter." Someone started to read the last chapter of Beelzebub's Tales, "Mountain Pass," now called "The Result of Impartial Mentation." During the reading, Gurdjieff sat and watched me full force. I had ears all over. I was overcome, overwhelmed. I felt the truth of it all.

Later I lay awake all night, vibrant with the power of the book's imagery. The cosmic procession of the Egolionopti intermingled with the more-felt-than-seen ideals of my childhood. I touched a very rare, unearthly state. I am thankful to Beelzebub's Tales for that blessed, sleepless night.

From then on, I saw much more of Gurdjieff. I was often invited either for luncheon at Childs, which was just a block from my gallery on 56th Street, or for a reading and dinner at his apartment.

Mr. Gurdjieff said he wanted me to read a part of the German translation of Beelzebub's Tales to a small group of German-speaking people, among them the Swiss Consul General, Mr. Robert J. F. Schwarzenbach. I had met the impressive Mr. Schwarzenbach before, when I inquired about being admitted to the United States on a permanent basis.

As soon as everybody had arrived, Mr. Gurdjieff asked me to read. "Clearly, each word equal!" he said.

The German translation I read was old-fashioned and sometimes queer-sounding. It had been done by old Russians who had meticulously followed Mr. Gurdjieffs injunction, "Word for word. Right order."

The Proposal

27

While we were drinking Turkish coffee during one of the pauses in the reading, Mr. Schwarzenbach said to Gurdjieff, "If I were you, I would let Miss Goepfert translate Beelzebubs Tales. She has a very good German."

Everybody seemed startled when Mr. Gurdjieff replied, "I already propose."

I soon learned that Mr. Gurdjieff s proposal was very real. He said to me, "If not married or have relationship like married, come to me." He wanted me to return with him to his Chateau du Prieure in France to translate Beelzebub's Tales into German. He urged me to come at once, but that was impossible; I was committed to the Opportunity Gallery and Hunter College until June.

I promised Mr. Gurdjieff that I would come to France as soon as my professional obligations were over. He told me to send a telegram to Mme. de Hartmann, his secretary, to let her know when I would arrive. It was winter, February I believe, when he sailed back to Europe. The year was 1929.

The Gurdjieff Years: 1929-1949

28

Chapter 3The Arrival

A-fter Gurdjieff left New York, I discovered that he knew Dr. Alfons Paquet, a good friend of mine from Frankfurt. Paquet had liked my feuilleton writings and invited me to the Frankfurter Zeitung writers' cafe gatherings. [Paquet, a man of ideas and social conscience, was a respected journalist, a dedicated pacifist, and an inveterate world traveler.] Not long after I had met Gurdjieff, I wrote to Paquet:

In no way do I belong to the community here under the leadership of the brilliant Orage who practices "the method" nor to the eloquent people who become speech-less as soon as Gurdjieff enters the room. Chance has brought us together and, although language is a problem, mutual interest and understanding were established immediately.

The decision has yet to be made whether I want to go to the Prieure and attend to the supervision of the translation of the text into German. I know the difficulties. G. is headstrong even in the face of better knowledge. There is no material advantage to me in doing so. And I would be leaving my metier: art.

Please write me your opinion as soon as possible, as frankly as you would tell to yourself. And please be so kind as never to let Gurdjieff know that I asked for advice and judgment about him. 4

From Paquet's answer I learned he and Gurdjieff had met in 1921 in Constantinople at a demonstration of the sacred dances and again in Berlin.

[In response to a letter from Harald Dohrn, the managing director of Hellerau, with whom Gurdjieff had been negotiating a rental agreement, Paquet wrote: In

29

Berlin I never saw exercises as in Constantinople and was rarely with other people than G. He gave me a manuscript of a "Mystery" for dance. As a favor I transposed the erroneous text into good German and had it typed. About this I am still awaiting a reply. ^ Unfortunately neither the manuscript nor the typed version of what can be assumed to be "The Struggle of the Magicians" has been found in Paquet's literary estate.]

Paquet knew Gurdjieff primarily as a world traveler full of stories of his adventures and almost nothing about his writing. Even so it was astonishing how much he had gathered about the universality and significance of Gurdjieff s teaching. Paquet's positive regard for Gurdjieff came with a warning: Gurdjieff and what he teaches are among the most interesting things of our times. My personal experiences with him have been only good ones. But he is a man with a very strong will, maybe dangerous for (some) people. Its all about taking a risk. ^

The four months between Gurdjieffs departure from New York and mine were difficult ones. Too many voices, most of them unasked for, gave their views on my adventure. Some were gossipers who told ugly stories about Gurdjieff, but I didn't believe them.

In June as soon as classes were over, I sailed for Europe. Orage, warm, all informing and informed, asked me to write to him from the Prieure, but I knew it would be impossible to "report" to him. I would soon be swimming in Gurdjieffs waters where I would not catch fish for anyone else.

While on board the S.S. Republic, I wrote to Paquet again: After some hesitation I came to the conclusion that nothing interests me now more than his book and his method.I simply jump into this adventurefull steam ahead, I am

The Gurdjieff Years: 1929-1949

30

not even close to a decision about whether I will return to New York in autumn or if I will stay in Fontainebleau. 7

When I got to Paris, I visited Werner Picht, the well- known German sociologist and writer with whom I had become close friends. He opposed my going to Gurdjieff. When I asked whether I could come to him if I had to flee the Prieure, he assured me, "You can come to me anytime."

In Paris I did as Mr. Gurdjieff had instructed me. I wired my scheduled arrival time to Mme. de Hartmann. Then I took the train to the Fontainebleau-Avon station where I expected her to meet me. When no one came, I took a taxi down the memorable avenue of old sycamore trees to the Chateau du Prieure of Avon. The large house, once a monastery, was several hundred years old. It was surrounded by gardens. Behind it were woods.

I obeyed the sign, "Sonnez fort (ring loudly)," but the bell sounded feeble. The gate was opened by the slow- moving Mme. Stjoernval. She spoke German, but thankfully there was no time for conversation.

One of the large Renaissance windows on the upper floor of the Prieure flew open. Gurdjieff thrust first one elbow out and then the other. He seemed to fill the whole window. He called to me, "Hey Mees, Mees!" (Gurdjieff pronounced "Miss" as "Mees.") I flew up the stairs to meet him. Gurdjieff seemed all happy. All happy was I.

I was at the Prieure to translate Beelzebub's Tales to His Grandson. My work was to begin immediately. Gurdjieff called "Jeanna" (his name for Jeanne de Salzmann) into his room to meet me. He introduced us to each other as if this event were very important. He said, "Can trust one another."

He told Mme. de Salzmann, "Give her 'Art.' She profes- sor of art in New York." (Gurdjieff always made much of my role as "professor of art." That sat strangely with me.)

The Arrival

31

He said, "Also give 'Civilization.' Contains about Germans. Also give proverbs from Study House. Can start translation proverbs." 8

Gurdjieff ordered a bath for me. "Take time, wash offAmerican dirt, then see."

The water trickled into the tub. I washed in a few inches of water. Someone knocked on the door. "Mr. Gurdjieff is ready for Paris. Can you come?" Within a few minutes I was with him in his Citroen on the way back to the railway station. It was my first lesson that with Mr. Gurdjieff there was no lingering.

In the car Gurdjieff told me that he had "made chik" of Mme. de Hartmann who had been acting as his secretary. ("Make chik" was Gurdjieffs expression, with corresponding gesture, to indicate the sound of a bothersome bedbug being squashed between two fingernails.) He said, "She impertinent, husband also." I did not believe that about Mr. de Hartmann who seemed so kind and gentle when I knew him in New York.

Now, in addition to translating, I was to be Mr. Gurdjieffs secretary, his secret-a-ry. I was to keep his secrets for him. As a child one of my favorite fairy tales had been Grimm's "The Twelve Brothers." In the story a princess agrees to remain silent for seven years in order to free her twelve brothers from an enchantment that had turned them into ravens. She keeps her oath even when she is about to be burned at the stake. Then, just as the seven-year trial ends, the ravens return to their princely forms and rescue their noble sister from the flames. Yes, I could keep silent about Mr. Gurdjieffs secrets.

We went first class on the train to Paris. Mr. Gurdjieff pulled out his papers and began to write. I started translating the proverbs.

The Gurdjieff Years: 1929-1949

32

In Paris we drove to his apartment. Then we went with Mr. de Salzmann to a restaurant in Montmartre. When I expressed annoyance at their speaking in Russian, Mr. de Salzmann told some good stories in German.

Mr. de Salzmann and I became good friends. He was a very original creature with big eyes and wonderful expressions. If he didn't believe someone, he would pull the skin below one eye down with his forefinger as if to say, "You tell me, hah?"

One day he told me why he never smiled. He said that once Mr. Gurdjieff had picked him up and put him above the world where he could see everything as it really is. Then he fell back down to crawl in the earth's dust again. From then on, he was unable to laugh. He yearned for that larger view until the end of his days.

Guests to the Prieure usually spent their first days on "the Ritz," the elegant second floor of the chateau. When my grace period on the Ritz was up, Mr. Gurdjieff escorted me on a ceremonial tour of the house and grounds to select my permanent room. As we passed from room to room, Mr. de Salzmann leaned toward me to whisper, "Don't say what you dislike. That one you will get!"

I chose a room on the austere third floor "Monks' Corridor" painted in ocher and oxblood red. My room, with a skull and crossbones painted above the door, was furnished simply with a bed, table, and chair. It overlooked the whole estate. From my window I had a view of the goldfish pond and the formal gardens.

Next door to my room was Elizabeth Gordon, a good, old English spinster of whom I became very fond during my time at the Prieure.

On the other side of Miss Gordon was Lili Chaverdian nee Galumnian and her little boy Serioja. In New York Mr. Gurdjieff had told me I would work on the

The Arrival

33

translation with Lili who could help me "to verify German."

Lili was warm, robust, with fuzzy hair and wonderful dark eyes. She had the most beautiful amber necklace and marvelous linens and furs. It was said that she and her husband, who was high up in politics, owned half of Armenia. In my time, Lili spent half the year with him and half at the Prieure.

Lili and her son came to the Prieure soon after my arrival. Mme. de Salzmann, who was usually quite composed, was very excited when she went into town to pick up her close friend Lili. It was a side of Mme. de Salzmann I hadn't seen before.

At the end of the corridor, Mme. de Salzmann lived in one large room with her two children, Natalie ("Boussik") and Michel. Mr. de Salzmann, who at that time worked in Paris restoring furniture and antiques, came for weekends.

Mr. Gurdjieffs own rooms were on the second floor in the right-hand tower with windows that faced in two directions.

By the time I came to the Prieure, Mr. Gurdjieffs wife, Julia Ostrowska, had already died. Other members of Mr. Gurdjieffs family and some uprooted Russians lived at the Prieure in the rambling of buildings away from the main house. There were Mr. Gurdjieffs brother, Dmitri Ivanovitch, and his wife, Astrig Gregorevna, and their three daughters, Luba, Jenia, and Lyda. There were Mr. Gurdjieffs sister, Sophie Ivanovna, and her husband, Gyorgi Kapanadze. And there was Mr. Gurdjieffs orphaned nephew, Valia [Valentin, son of Anna Ivanova and Frodor Anastasieff], who was in his late teens.

Among the Russians were Dr. and Mme. Leonid Stjoernval and son Nicolai, Mr. Svetchnikoff, and Mr. Reitlinger, a Russian with a German name. 9

The Gurdjieff Years: 1929-1949

34

Reitlinger had been a lawyer in Russia but now lived in very reduced circumstances. He would knock at my door to ask, "Can I have a little of your yogurt so I can make my own yogurt?"

Besides these "regulars" there were usually a number of guests, often American and English, who came to the Prieure for longer or shorter periods of time. Among them were Martin Benson, a practical down-to-earth American; Alan Brown, a lawyer from New York; Jean Toomer, the black author of Cane; Payson Loomis, a well-to-do Yale graduate from America; Nick Putnam, who later married Mr. Gurdjieffs niece Lyda; Edith Taylor (with daughter Eve), who married Swaska, an American of Czechoslovakian background; and Bernard Metz from England.

I never knew why Metz stayed, or why he was allowed to stay, but he did odd jobs and performed amusing stunts. When my birthday came in August, Metz brought me a bouquet of fresh vegetables. After my birthday dinner, Mr. Gurdjieff gave a speech which ended with, "What I wish for you, you cannot even imagine."

My good friend Gela Archipenko, at Mr. Gurdjieffs invitation, followed me to the Prieure. Mr. Gurdjieff, who must have thought I was lonesome with no one German to talk to, was particularly charming with her. He tried his best, but she was afraid of him and soon left the Prieure. Later when she was in a Berlin hospital, Gurdjieff sent her roses.

Peggy Matthews (later Flinsch), an old friend of mine who had been at the Prieure briefly before my time there, also came to see me. Once, during a period when Mr. Gurdjieff didn't want any visitors, Peggy climbed over the Prieure wall to visit with me.

On several occasions that summer, I wrote to Paquet inviting him to the Prieure. In July I wrote to him: Yes,

The Arrival

35

please come soon. Salzmann and I are awaiting you. The Turkish bath that G. built himself awaits you. And G. will be very glad, especially because he seems to have many plans regarding Germany. G. is usually here from Saturday noon to Sunday noon. Otherwise he is at the Cafe de la Paix or traveling.10

In September, after Paquet's visit to the Prieure, I wrote: G. was horrified that you compared him to Plato. After my explanation, everyone (except Gurdjieff who indeed knows it better) appreciated how much truth there was in the comparison. Even so, everyone agreed it is impossible to compare him to anyone or anything. G. is, in fact, indescribable. n

TheGurdjieff Years: 1929-1949

Within a week of my arrival at the Prieure, Mr. Gurdjiefif took me to the location of the automobile accident which nearly ended his life in 1924. Dare I speak of this un-understandable experience?

Can I tell how he took me to his place of "accident" and begged me to help him, to translate himHim, who sat there in front of me with a crown of thorns on his head? Oh Holy Grail, oh Amfortas, how can I visualize it, how can I bear it? All my life's forces are for you, are part of you, I waited for you all my lifeoh please take my offering of myselflet me help you. And I hear your voice, your voice in youand it reaches me, "If you help me now, later can buy half of Germany." How amazing. I am transfixedI am out of my bodyI don't want to know what is "half of Germany." Oh you poor suffering Christ with the crown of thorns on your headwhichI saw-----how can I serve you, help you, suffer for you? And therehis voice comes forth, and he says, "If you help me now, later can own half of Germany." I am overwhelmedon my knees before Him who reveals his suffering to me.1 2

36

Chapter 4

TranslationIn July 1929, I wrote to Paquet again: After Constantinople where you last saw him, G. tried to establish his Institute in different countries and fought with all kinds of devils, finally in 1922 he bought this chateau with its remarkable past. For two or three years "The Institute for the Harmonious Development of Man" flourished with sixty to a hundred students from every country who, through "voluntary suffering" and "conscious labor, " learned to know themselves and how to make the best and fullest use of themselves. There are endless stories about the "tyrant and despot" G. of that time! Then [in 1924] G. had a serious car accident and had to close the Institute.13

As Gurdjieff recovered from the accident, he began to write his magnum opus, Beelzebub's Tales to His Grandson. He started by dictating to Mme. de Hartmann, and then, when he felt better, he wrote himself. During the next years, he wrote almost incessantly wherever he was.

To this day he spends every free minute writing. The book is now three volumes, the largest part written in Russian, a smaller part in Armenian. All is written in his unique style with many new wordsand even new concepts. It destroys old associations and slowly introduces new ones in their place. When and if this book is published, it will be in six languages at once.

Among G. 's sayings is that work here isn't done for the sake of the work but as a means. On the other hand, he is very concerned with his own work. G. 's maxim, which has guided his life, applies here too: "Do everything differently from what everyone else does." I4

37

When Gurdjieff was satisfied with the Russian text, the material was transposed, word by word, into English. It has been suggested that Thomas de Hartmann made that rough English version of Beelzebub's Tales,15 but while I was at the Prieure it was always a mystery who had made the first English translation. At the same time, Mme. de Hartmann's parents performed a similar verbatim transposition of the Russian into German. It was from this awkward German version that I had read in New York in the winter of 1929. During Orage's annual summer visits to the Prieure in the mid-1920s, he translated Beelzebub's Tales into literate English.

When I arrived at the Prieure in June 1929, I began translating Orage's English version of the book into good German. After testing me a few times, Gurdjieff let me work on my own. 16

During this same time, Mme. de Salzmann was translating the English into French.

I sensed that Gurdjieff had chosen me to fulfill a need. He told me my German contained the four essentials for translating his books: (1) old religious language; (2) modern scientific language; (3) an understanding of folk or popular sayings, such as Mullah Nassr Eddin's; and (4) a capacity to learn to be exact.

The days of translation at the Prieure had a definite pattern. Gurdjieff almost always went out in the early morning before breakfast to a cafe in Fontainebleau or to the Cafe de la Paix in Paris, where he Continued to revise Beelzebub's Tales.

During my time with Gurdjieff, there were over a dozen versions of the first chapter. I saw it grow from twenty to forty pages. Even at that, some of the best stories were left out.

By the changes he made, it was obvious that Gurdjieff

The Gurdjieff Years: 1929-1949

38

did not wish simply to give new verbal knowledge. He wanted to change, open, develop something in the essence of man which could lead him to the creation of his own inner world and give him understanding. Gurdjieff knew that anything of value has to be worked for. His modifications were intended "to bury the bone deeper," which meant not giving the teaching in an easily accessible form. Beelzebub's Tales yields its wealth only when the reader engages himself with the material. The reader's willingness to experience confrontation and his capacity to question and to wait for an answer are essential for understanding.

I worked on translation all morning. When the weather was good, I worked outside on the beautiful terrace. I worked partly by myself, partly with Lili, comparing the German translation with the Russian original. Occasionally I compared the German translation with Mme. de Salzmann's French version.

Translating Beelzebub's Tales with its unusual words and long complex sentencessometimes a page and a half longwas very difficult. When I wrote to Paquet in September, I addressed his concerns about Gurdjieffs style of writing: Your concerns about style and words nourished all the resistance that 1 possibly could have to the chapter "Arch Absurd which had been a hard nut to crack all week. Againyes, againslowly and through suffering I came to realize that nothing can be changed. What appear as stupid jokes, bizarre syntax, and solanka words are simply coatings for things that, in their pure form, can only be passed on to "initiates." Otherwise they need many incrustations in order not to "throw pearls before swine." It's just because G. wants [to reach] the normal" human that he intentionally makes the book

difficult for "intellectuals." The material is not meant to be

Translation

39

absorbed in a lopsided manner but instead with instinct and heart and mind all at the same time. It has to becomesecond nature.

["Solanka" probably refers to solyanka, a thick spicy, sour soup, popular in Russia and Germany, made in a variety of ways with many different ingredients. An alternate translation of "solanka words" might be "a mishmash of made-up words."]

My struggle is something like, "I will not let You go unless You bless me."ls [Jacob's words when wrestling with God.]

G. let me read the chapter "Fruits of the Former Civilizations and Blossoms of the Contemporary," a chapter that I often have read myself and hence I can better grasp than most of the others, I wish you could have been here! Everything can be found in this chapter. One may not be so stupid or simple-minded to say: he says what everyone says or he says the converse or just what is well known. Instead you have to find out in yourself why he says it this way, for which effect on the reader.

Oh, G. knows very well how ridiculous it is to hear, at the beginning of the chapter "Time," that one year consists of twelve months, one month has thirty days, etc. But still it is written down here. it's like a chair, please sit down, everything is very simple, get some rest, you learned that in school, oh, how you labored, well, all sciences are like that, yawn if you like, yes, you were always sleeping, but take care, you will fall if I take away the chair and give you something real, something ultimate, something that never, ever can be different, you will fall, you will choke, actually, oh, let's make a joke where you can laugh again and miss everything that is true and all the seriousness that lies in it, everything that is genuine, important, and real you had overlooked.

The Gurdjieff Years: 1929-1949

40

I wave to you toward your castle from our chateau and hope that drawbridges, cars, trains, and airships will bring us together more often.

Of such long letters, Beelzebub is jealous. But you, you shake your head about the letter and me, the fool. 19

Sometimes, just when I thought I was finished with a chapter, Mr. Gurdjieff decided to rewrite it. Then I had to begin the translation all over again. This happened time after time. From a letter to Paquet: I worked very very hard this week and experienced a lot until yesterday when I gave out in the Turkish bath. But today I was back at work. Here everything is all or nothing! Here there is something singular, something of the in-between, and without the usual sense of time that not I nor anyone can give you, you dearest human. You will attain it better by yourself, if you like, because you made a right beginning with your insight expressed in your letter that all your methods and skills, which I know are special, are not sufficient here. 20

On my first day at the Prieure, Mr. Gurdjieff had said, "Translate. Translate whole chapter. Try Alexander de Salzmann. He speaks German, can translate. Can ask him." But, as I wrote to Paquet: Salzmann stammered the Russian into German and I guessed what it meant until he agreed and I liked it. 21

Translating with Mr. de Salzmann was impossible. Whenever I asked him for one word, he gave five, and when I asked for ten words, he gave one.

Lili, on the other hand, suited me well for translation. She had an innate sense of language and had studied in Berlin and Paris. She was familiar with German, Armenian, Russian, and French. She couldn't translate, but she was very helpful in choosing the correct word to

Translation

41

convey a particular meaning. If I suggested two or three words to her, she could choose the right one.

When Gurdjieff left the Prieure in the morning, we never knew when he would be back. Luncheon, served either in his room or on the terrace, was supposed to be at one o'clock, but he rarely came back before two. Sometimes it was three in the afternoon before Gurdjieff returned.

Waiting for Gurdjieff to come back from his day's writing, I always suffered. I had nothing to eat since the unappealing black liquid that wasn't coffee and the burned toast that passed for breakfast. I was hungry, but no food was given. My stomach was in agony. When it was long past the normal time for a mid-day meal, it reacted, Now I don't want to eat! But when Gurdjiefif got back, there was Armagnac. He started the toasts to the "idiots." Then hors d'oeuvres came. My stomach opened.

After lunch, as after most meals while I was at the Prieure, Gurdjieff would play music on his harmonium. It was as if it were a prayer, a direct food for making another inner effort. I didn't analyze it, I just let it rain on me.

One afternoon when Gurdjieff returned to the Prieure from his day's writing at the cafe, he joined me on the terrace where I had been translating Beelzebub's Tales. He looked very tired.

I asked him, "Why don't you work here in the fresh air in these beautiful surroundings?" I gestured toward the rose garden, the goldfish pond, and the rows of sycamore trees in front of us.

Gurdjieff replied, "I always work in cafes, dance halls, places where I see people, how they are; where I see those most drunk, most abnormal. Seeing them, I can produce impulse of love in me. From that I write my books."

The Gurdjieff Years 1929-1949

42

Many evenings in the salon with its beautiful gray walls and red curtains, a chapter of Beelzebub's Tales was read in Russian, French, German, or English, depending on which guests were at the Prieure. Regardless of the language read, I felt the flow of the chapter and recognized certain words. As I began to know the content of the chapters, it didn't matter what language they were read in. The unfamiliar Russian was like a dress which clothed a familiar body.

There slowly developed in us the capacity to "make oneself empty," to learn to open, to listen. Something new can enter only when there is space. This is a much more difficult process than most people want to believe. It is the freeing of the purely subjective thinking and picturing kaleidoscope, which we received automatically, and the acquisition of a consciously functioning, ever true, objective wealth in its place.

During the reading, Gurdjieff watched the listeners to evaluate what he had written and the exactness of its translation. New guests were surprised that he considered a single word or the flow of a sentence so very important, but we translators already knew Gurdjieff as "the teacher of exactness." For us, the translation was a school that freed us from our subjective conceptions and views. Thanks to the creation of a new, exact language, we came to an understanding which we couldn't have imagined in the beginning.

With Gurdjieff we came to use words precisely. He stated clearly that philology was a better route to Truth than philosophy.

We looked at roots of words. There were many philological disputes.

In my great effort to find the right terminology, I learned the Russian alphabet. I used Mr. Reitlinger as my living dictionary. Each time we sat next to each other, I

Translation

43

would ask, "What does this mean? Now what does this mean?"

Mr. Reitlinger's automatism was a wonder to behold. Whenever he picked up the dictionary, he blew on it. Of course, I understood that in old libraries dust lay heavily on the books, but this was not an old library. Still, he blew on the dictionary to remove the dust that wasn't there.

Mr. Gurdjieff was annoyed with this habit of Reitlinger's. One day Gurdjieff asked me, "Why does Mr. Reitlinger irritate me so but not you? Because you're a woman. Not so bad. But such a man for me. Aaagh! You see?"

I asked all the Russians who lived at the Prieure about the meaning of the Russian word nalichie, a frequently used, significant expression in Beelzebub's Tales. Orage had translated it into English as common presence. Mme. de Salzmann had translated it into French as presence generate,

"What is the German equivalent?" I wanted to know. For weeks I struggled with the question. Nothing I came up with seemed satisfactory. Finally someone said, "Nalichie is a financial term, for all you have, assets and debits." That's how I came to the German formulation, der allgemeine Bestand. It made sense to me. [The Russian word nalichie means the totality of all you have and are.23]

In the first chapter 0's. Beelzebub's Tales, Gurdjieff dwelt on the importance of the two kinds of mentation mentation by word and mentation by form. This idea arrested me. How very important it was to understand this. If I use a word, and someone else from a different culture, or even from a different family, associates in images other than I do with that word, then I have not really communicated with that person. I have only an illusion that my thought, expressed in words, has reached the other person. The listener has only an illusion that he has understood my thought.

The Gurdjieff Years 1929-1949

So how is it possible to teach with words? It might help to feel that the words are inadequate. In general, Gurdjieff, when he spoke aloud, used words sparingly. Of course, sometimes, when he was angry, the words would flow out of him. Then he would sigh, "Now, lost myself with all the talk."

Translation

When I came to the Prieure in June of 1929,1 intended to stay just for the summer. I expected to be back in New York when the Opportunity Gallery and Hunter College reopened in September. I had, after all, contracts and obligations. The Hunter College catalogue even contained a description of the courses I was committed to teach.

Toward the end of the summer, Mr. Gurdjieff took me on a long walk in the Prieure woods. He started one sentence after another but didn't finish any of them. The gist was that he couldn't tell me what he had to do. His life was very hard. It was necessary for me to stay. I saw in this process, clearly for perhaps the first time, what is subconsciousness and what is consciousness. I knewthe subconsciousness knewfrom the beginning, his call and my response were without termination, but the outer lifeearning money, being securewanted to continue. As he was talking, I felt all this melt. It was similar to what happened in New York when I looked at the fashions in the Henri Bendel window. Gurdjieff did something, and it just went out of me.

What to do? What to do? I racked my brain. What excuse do I have? I wrote to the gallery and to the college telling them that my father was lying ill, and I couldn't come back. So I gave all that up. I thought I would never see America again.

45

Chapter 5The Prieure Years

As Gurdjieff wrote intensively with pencil onto the thin French paper he liked to use, Dr. Stjoernval almost always sat with him. It was as if what poured into Mr. Gurdjieff, which he then put into words, was so strong that two people were required to receive it. Gurdjieff needed someone else to act as an antenna, and Dr. Stjoernval served him in that way. While Gurdjieff wrote, the waiters at the cafe in Fontainebleau or the Cafe de la Paix kept his cup filled with hot coffee, just as his nieces did at the Prieure. Occasionally some Russians came, received something from him, kissed his hand devotedly, gratefully, and left.

Sometimes Gurdjieff would tell me, "Come at such and such a time." When I arrived, he barely motioned me to sit down. He remained concentrated in his world, unaffected by the peripheral noise of chattering people and traffic on the street. Maybe in the beginning I said something, but I soon learned to wait until he turned to me and opened his "visor." Only then could I tell him what I had to report. It was the same for everyone. All of Gurdjieffs many visitors had to wait until he turned toward them, and that could take one, two, or three hours. Whoever came sat in his silent circle. In Mr. Gurdjieffs presence, people experienced the striking contrast between the noisy, hasty, deceptive outer world, and his quiet surety and inner, dense collectedness. I felt and sensed with full conviction that, through him, the Grail was being kept according to legendguarded by angels in the air.

[In the several Parsifal/Parzival legends, the mystical Grail is described variously as a cornucopia, a precious

47

jewel, a bright stone, and the chalice of the Last Supper. Tradition holds that an experience of the Grail is an experience of Truth. The ever-present Grail is veiled from man's sight only by his own illusions.]

The Curdjieff Years 1929-1949

Mr. Gurdjieff created difficult circumstances for his students. Here no one chooses/or himself. One does what G.saysor one leaves.

The more Gurdjieff valued a pupil, the more difficult he made the conditions. Mr. and Mme. de Hartmann had left the Prieure shortly before I arrived, but she came back to see Gurdjieff from time to time. When she did, Gurdjieff shouted at her until the house shook. It was relentless, endless, at all hours of day and night. At first I thought Olga de Hartmann was a terrible person. Later I came to think that he did her an honor by that.

One day Dr. Stjoernval said to me, "May I say something to you? How to explain it? Gurdjieff tries something that no one has tried. He tries to take a person born under one star and change their destiny to that corresponding to another constellation. And that is, ingeneral, impossible."

The need for money at the Prieure was immense; the task of acquiring it never ending. I had had experience raising money for the Opportunity Gallery, so, besides translating, I helped Gurdjieff in this way. I had to collect money from the visitors who came to the Prieure. If their contributions didn't come easily, I had to "milk them." At different times I wrote letters for Gurdjieff about money. Shortly after I arrived at the Prieure, I wrote to Lady Mary Lilian Rothermere, an important woman in London who

48

***

* * *

had given money to Gurdjieff. I had to tell her that even though Gurdjieff now had a new secretary, the need for money remained unchanged.

Once Gurdjieff told me to write a letter to Paquet for him. When I brought the completed letter to him, Gurdjieff stormed at me, "No! Start different." I was angered, for I had written the letter exactly as he had told me to. I calmed myself and wrote a second version. Gurdjieff stormed again. I wrote a third version which he accepted, even though it was very different from what he originally said he wanted. Then he said, "No right water closets in West. Must be hole. Imagine someone standing there. Feel not sure. Have to wriggle back and forth to find hole."

Not long after I arrived at the Prieure, Gurdjieff said, "Not easy, but you must make Mme. Stjoernval your secretary. Know German, can type." Mme. Stjoernval, uprooted Russian aristocracy, could do nothing without an earring. I had to gain her cooperation if the work on Beelzebub's Tales was to continue. So, when she was free, we would have tea sweetened with jelly, according to Russian custom. She would talk of olden times in Moscow. After a while I would say, "Would you please help?" Usually she did. Where else but with Gurdjieff would I have met, tolerated, and eventually learned to like such a person?

A time came when I needed more help than Mme. Stjoernval could provide. Gurdjieff said, "Find secretary." By advertising in a Paris newspaper, I found a young woman who typed well and wrote good German. She came to the Prieure by the day. Once she said to me, Everyone around him is very nice, but not him. I don't

understand him. I'm afraid." When I told Gurdjieff that, he laughed! He liked such stories.

The Prieure Years

49

At Gurdjieffs court, Mr. de Saizmann was the jester. He was a great mimic and could tell very funny stories. He often brought Gurdjieff to earthquakes of body-shaking laughter. I liked him for that.

Once he told of a German cure who, from time to time, while listening to his parishioners' confessions, exclaimed aloud, "0 du Wuaschte" ("Oh, you dirty libertine!"). Gurdjieff laughed loudly.

The Gurdjieff Years 1929-1949

Mr. Gurdjieff often gave the people around him nicknames. Not long after I arrived, he began to call me "Sausage." Being "Sausage" didn't sit well with me. I wrote in that same letter to Paquet: I found the term disgusting. I thought Gurdjieff insisted on it just because I refused to listen to it. Because I am an idiot who wants to learn and doesn't waste anything that comes my way, I accept this memento mori almost gratefully and with a smile. 25

Later Gurdjieff told me that "sausage" goes well with "pepper and mustard," which I understood to mean Gurdjieff himself, and then all was well.

Gurdjieff brought discipline to our eating and drinking. When he lifted his glass, we had to lift our glasses. When he drank, we had to drink. We developed the capacity to drink and be even more aware. We had to be very attentive for the rules never remained the same. Sometimes women got half of what the men drank. Gurdjieff might accept a refusal to drink, or he might urge the person on. He tested people in this way.

At the end of a meal, guests would be offered a choice of coffee or tea. Most people didn't know or wouldn't say what they wanted. "Oh, anything, Mr. Gurdjieff." "It doesn't matter, Mr. Gurdjieff." The right answer should

50

have been either "Coffee" or "Tea." Later he added chocolate to the list of choices. "Coffee, tea, or chocolate. Make your choice." He played this game with visitors one after another.

Gurdjieff expected us to try what we didn't know or what we didn't like. He used to describe the dumbfounded expression on a person confronted with the unfamiliar as, "You look like cow returned from the day's grazing to face newly painted barn door. 'Cannot understand. This not my door.'"

One day very early in my stay at the Prieure, pig knuckle soup, too strongly flavored with garlic for my taste, was served in a large tureen. Bits of unidentifiable greens floated on the top of the unappetizing broth. I wouldn't have eaten the soup if I had had a choice. I ate what I was given, and I was watched.

When Gurdjieff asked, "Repeat?" I said, "Yes." I ate the soup, but I didn't know how long my stomach would permit me to continue sitting there.

When he asked a second time, "Repeat?" I again said, "Yes."

When he offered a third refill, I lifted my bowl to receive it. But Gurdjieff said, "No. No. I pity your stomach."

Children too were expected to eat whatever was put before them. In the spring, fresh radishes with tender green leaves still attached were served. A visiting three- year-old turned up his nose at them saying, "We don't eat radishes that way. I can't eat those dirty things." But he did.

Gurdjieff told us that we had become "too educated" to attend to our inner digestive processes. He said that we stopped noticing after the food was swallowed. To illustrate his point, Gurdjieff gave someone several hot Psppersvery hot peppersto eat. Then he said, "Burns

The Prieure Years

51

now. Afterward you not know where go, but tomorrow morning, at other end, burns again."

Gurdjieff was usually quiet at the table. He said, "When I eat, I self-remember." He chided those people who insisted on talking during the meal, "Idiot God made only one mouth. Should have made two."

***

On Sunday evenings Gurdjieff and his "tail" (the entourage of students, family, and guests who followed him everywhere) always went to a restaurant in Montmartre. These meals were referred to as "Crayfish Parties" because of the small shrimp-like crustaceans served in abundance. My task was to find someone to cover the bill. If I couldn't get one of the guests at the Prieure to pay, I had, as I often did, to ask "poor Miss Gordon" to provide the funds.

One day I asked Mr. Gurdjieff if I needed to go to the party. "Haven't I gone often enough? Can't I stay home?" He said, "No. You need learn 'eat dog.'" ("Eat dog" was Gurdjieffs expression for enduring the unpleasant.)

The Gurdjieff Years 1929-1949

The Montmartre restaurant was owned by a pleasant young couple devoted to Mr. Gurdjieff. One day the redhaired wife, accompanied by her beautifully dressed three-year-old daughter, came to visit at the Prieure. As was his custom, Mr. Gurdjieff gave the child candy of all kinds. The mother prompted the shy little girl, "Say 'Thank you.'" Gurdjieff admonished the mother, "You do just what you shouldn't do. You think she can thank me with a word." Gurdjieff understood that adults interfere with the young child's genuine inner experience of gratitude by making him or her externalize it with words.

52

Mr. Gurdjieff was also opposed to the modern habit of praising children indiscriminately for all and sundry accomplishments. He said that if the child hadn't worked with a special intent, praise weakened the child's capacity to make efforts. And if the child had made a real effort, praise was not needed. Find another way to affirm the action, he advised.

The Prieure Years

On Wednesdays Miss Gordon went to the public market. Every week in the summertime she would bring back raspberries and sour cream. What a feast!

Once in a while, I accompanied Miss Gordon to the market. Sometimes six-year-old Michel de Salzmann came along with me. One day he dashed away, gone like a shot from my hand. I felt responsible. Where did he go? After searching, I found him hanging on to a donkey, caressing it. I heard that at one time Mr. Gurdjieff had given Michel a donkey. When hard times came to the Prieure, Gurdjieff told Michel, "I need to sell your donkey." Whether the donkey Michel found in the market was his donkey, I can't say.

One Easter Gurdjieff bought a child-sized Citroen as a surprise for Michel. Gurdjieff was so delighted with the miniature car he had to try it himself. When Gurdjieff sat in it, it buckled under his mass. It had been designed for the weight of a child, not that of an adult. The car was ruined.

On Saturdays everyone took Turkish baths, the women in the afternoon, the men later. Afterward, the most important meal of the week was served in the dining room with its large oval table. In addition to the

53

residents, there were guestsas few as one or as many as ten. It was all quite ceremonious with a sheep's head served every Saturday. Of course, the lean pieces were marvelously good, but the fat behind the eyes was considered especially tasty, too.

The children had to wait until eleven or twelve o'clock for their supper. They had to struggle to stay awake. At the children's table, Michel presided. Sometimes he was given food to divide among the other children. He would hand pieces around just as Gurdjieff did at the adults' table. Occasionally Gurdjieff asked a small child to give a delicacy of some kind "to the person who is most deserving." Not an easy choice for a child to make.

After dinner Gurdjieff played his harmonium and a chapter of Beelzebub's Tales was read.

In the early 1920s, before Gurdjieff s car accident, the after-dinner activities took place in the Study House. When I was at the Prieure, this converted zeppelin hangar was a rarely used relic. I regarded its fountain of splashing water and colored lights as a reflection of the child in Gurdjieff. The readings from Beelzebub's Tales were held in the salon and Gurdjieff no longer taught the Movements, or sacred dances. Sometimes at night I heard Mme. de Salzmann and Lili speaking together in quiet voices about the Movements. I was intrigued by what they said.

Years later in Paris Gurdjieff invited me to watch a Movements class. It was like seeing a series of Persian miniatures. He had the class move quickly from one Movement to another. I was breathless. After I had watched a few more classes, he suggested that I "partake." Facing us, Gurdjieff gave the Movement, showing it simply, more as an indication than a demonstration. Someone in the front row was usually the

The Gurdjieff Years 1929-1949

54

first to catch it. From there it flowed into the rest of the class. At that time, Gurdjieff never repeated a Movement. Bach time it was something totally different.

The Prieure Years

Gurdjieff, accompanied by different people, took many automobile trips through France. Day trips, overnight trips, trips lasting several days or a week. Sometimes one carload of people, sometimes more than one. Trips to Cote d'Azur in the winter, to Chamonix in the French Alps in the summer, to Vichy at any time to take the underwater massage.

Beelzebub's Tales went along on all the trips. Gurdjieff expected me to translate or read a chapter aloud to him while he drove.

Orage told me about a time he traveled with Gurdjieff to Vichy. While there Gurdjieff, after describing various pains and difficulties "here and here," sent Orage to a local doctor to get some medicine. Orage came back with a variety of pills and tablets. "Take this one on Monday, this one on Tuesday, this one once a week." Gurdjieff opened the bottles and swallowed all the pills right then.

I myself saw a similar event. When Michel came down with measles, he struggled with the doctor who came to examine him. "No," Michel insisted, "you can't touch me." When Mr. Gurdjieff heard this story he said, "Very right! Don't let any doctor ever touch you! Fight him!" Gurdjieff put that into Michel, who later became a doctor.

Gurdjieffs driving was very erratic. Even with the person responsible for reading the maps sitting next to him, we did not always arrive at our destination by the shortest, most direct route. Once Gurdjieff made a turn, he would never go back or retrace his steps. We took many detours in this way.

55

One time in the Fontainebleau Forest, he got off the regular roads onto a terraced walking path. The car kept bumping downward four inches at a time. Eventually the car got stuck and could move no further. We left it behind and walked out. Later someone was sent back to retrieve the car.

Once, when we met Gypsies at an overpass, Gurdjieff said, "Ideal life."

If we were driving near a cathedral, we often stopped to see it. Sometimes he told me to walk through the cathedral because I had studied the history of art. Another person in our party might not be permitted to enter the cathedral. Only rarely did Gurdjieff go inside. On such occasions, he invariably straightened his collar and cravat first, like a businessman before entering a bank, and then walked into the cathedral with a firm step.

Gurdjieff and I walked together through Chartres Cathedral but just as he moved through all cathedralsquickly. It was the same at cafes. He ordered and before the rest of us were finished he would be back in the car again. We never dawdled with Gurdjieff.

Whenever possible he stopped at the same small hotels and inns, where the people were already trained to his individuality and knew how he wished things. Even if we arrived at ten o'clock at night when everything was closed, the hosts would receive him with, "Oh Monsieur! Yes, of course!" Before long we would have dinner.

One time we stayed at a hotel where the food wasn't to Gurdjieffs taste. At the end of the meal he handed me money for the chef. He said, "Better give much to him so he believes he is good cook, and fixed for life."

Gurdjieff woke us very early in the mornings to continue our journey. From the time I was a child, I got up and dressed quickly in the morning, so when I traveled

The Gurdjieff Years 1929-1949

56

with him I was always ready to leave on time. One day Gurdjieff said to me, "I wake you last. You still be ready."

All my German friends were amazed that I was with this strange unknowable creature, Gurdjieff. Yet neither they nor their milieu was foreign to him. During the years at the Prieure, I had two suitors. One, who had been a German exchange student the same year I was, worked in the German embassy in London. When I asked Gurdjieff if he could visit the Prieure, he said, "Quite good! Not yet ambassador, but anyhow, let come." After meeting him, Gurdjieff said that he could be considered as a husband. The other was Fritz Metzger. When he and his sister came to see me, Mr. Gurdjieff commented on Fritz's marriage proposal. He said, "Now seem splendid but no matter what he have now, later, being Jew, maybe cannot pay for even bread for children. Impossible!" That was years before we could even imagine the extent of the antiSemitism that later swept through Germany.

The Prieure Years

By the fall of 1929, I had completed the German translation of Book One of Beelzebubs Tales to His Grandson. Gurdjieff, eager to see how the book would be received, had me write the following announcement:

In the very near future, there will begin in Paris, New York, London, and Berlin, public readings from a series of books by G. Gurdjieff. They will show the objective reality of everything existing on earth as well as of world creation and world existence from the standpoint of sound human logic.

These readings will be given in various places in French, English, German, and Russian.

For more information please contact the main organizers of

57

the public readings and the translators for the differentlanguages. Their perma